Old Lion
by Canadian Crow
Summary: She never hesitated, not for a moment. This was her purpose and she'd burn before she gave them so much as an inch.


Note: Inspired by the works of Ronald D. Moore and H.G. Wells.

Fair Warning: This is what happens when you combine Battlestar Galactica, Two Steps From Hell, and an 18-hour flight.

...

Ask anyone what primary school lesson they still knew by heart and you're likely to get three answers; the names of all the Colonies and their capitals, the Colonial Pledge, and the names of all twelve _Mercury_ -Class Battlestars. This wasn't very surprising when most history books tended to credit the _Mercury_ -class with ending the Cylon War. Floating behemoths like _Atlantica_ and _Galactica_ had become symbols of victory, so iconic that many seemed to forget they weren't constructed until after the war had already begun.

The onset of the war had taken the Colonies by surprise. The Fleet's Commanders, more accustomed to chasing smugglers, were suddenly thrown into an all-out fight for survival. The Fleet's response was to send their most heavily armed vessels to crush the Cylon rebellion, battles that had been both vicious and costly. Almost half of their _Hercules_ -class Battleships were lost in the first two weeks. Two of their five carriers by the end of the first month.

It didn't take the Admiralty long to realize that they were seriously out-matched. Desperate to even the odds before the Colonies were wiped out, they green-lighted the construction of the _Mercury_ -class Battlestars. Orders were issued to the shipyards to have the vessels ready to launch within six months, no matter the cost. Any reports of cut-corners and shortcuts during construction were dismissed as rumors.

In the meantime, Fleet Command was focused on the coming storm. The remaining _Hercules_ -class vessels, heavily-armed but slow, were re-deployed to defend the Colonies from Cylon incursion and comprised the Fleet's shield. Their orders had been to hold back the enemy at all cost, and their crews can proudly take their place in Colonial history for the sacrifices they made to hold the line.

Facing the Cylons in open battle was the tip of the Fleet's spear, the _Artemis_ -class destroyer. The class had originally been developed for counter-piracy operations, built for speed and possessing an incredibly narrow DRADIS profile. Although their side and aft armor was relatively light, the class had been infamous for the heavily reinforced bow that enabled them to charge an enemy head-on. Using these advantages to devastating effect, their Commanders had successfully kept the Cylons at bay until the Battlestars could finally enter the fight. Very few of them survived to see end of the war; even fewer survived peacetime.

Once the chaos and violence began to fade from memory, the Adar administration began a series of military cutbacks that devastated the fleet. Some would go on to say that the Fleet lost more ships to those cutbacks than they did to the Cylons. Despite the odds, the _Artemis_ -class made it through the purges when the Colonial Fleet found use for them as training platforms. Even so, they were left with a repair/refit priority lower than some ground based simulators and the onboard systems had been deemed too outdated for the latest fleet-wide CNP software upgrade. Shipyard maintenance personnel did their best to overcome the growing list of overdue repairs, but as the years passed one _Artemis_ -class after another was decommissioned and towed away for scrap.

Eventually the last of them, _Perseus_ , floated alone in orbit over Picon. During the war _Perseus_ had been the pride of her class. She had survived the ambush at Hermes' Gate, led the counter-offensive at the Battle of Hephaestus Outpost, and almost-singlehandedly broken through the Siege of Canceron. She had been called The Lion of The Fleet in those days; serving on her crew had been considered an incredible privilege.

Now she lay toothless, disarmed and poorly maintained. Removed from active service years ago, her slowly decaying orbit punctuated only by Officer Cadets training for the day they might command a _real_ combat vessel. Though she was a relic by any definition the old lion had outlived her entire class, and once _Galactica_ was decommissioned she'd be that last serving ship that had fought in the war. Her wartime commander had once noted this, insisting that she was stubbornly waiting for the others to go first.

When the call to Action Stations came over the loudspeakers most personnel thought it was a joke, laughing as they leisurely reported to their posts. It wasn't until multiple impacts shook the deck that they realized it was no drill.

In the CIC, a frightened cadet reported multiple unrecognized DRADIS contacts firing on the surface. Intermittent and confused wireless transmissions branded the contacts as Cylons, though they didn't match any recorded Cylon contact. _Perseus'_ receivers were bombarded with distress cries from countless civilian ships, all desperately trying to escape the nuclear fire that rained down on Picon. Most were torn to pieces before they could break orbit.

 _Perseus_ rumbled as her main engines came online for the first time in nearly a decade, her crew struggling to coax old and tired muscles back into action. As her onboard computers spun furiously, the deck seemed to tremble with frustration and rage. Time and neglect had corroded so much of her armor. Her weapons had been rendered inactive long ago, her hull ached with age and her DRADIS was a mess of blind spots. Her enemy was enormous, heavily armed and firmly held the high ground.

They were four times the size of _Perseus_ and stronger than she could ever hope to fight off.

Driven to protect the helpless civilian ships, _Perseus_ turned toward face their attacker head-on. She was small, but her size made her swift. The Cylon fighters unleashed everything they had, but by some miracle her heavy bow armor withstood the barrage. The adage of her youth rang true once more; an _Artemis-_ class destroyer is deadliest when she's on the attack. Missiles clawed at her dorsal armor, breaching the hull and exposing entire decks to the vacuum of space. Her poorly maintained engines howled as she closed the distance, pouring more and more speed into her 12-million ton hull.

Even in her prime, _Perseus_ had rarely turned heads. When compared to the 66-million ton bulk of a _Mercury_ -class Battlestar, she seemed downright puny. She was far from fragile though, and by the time the Cylons realized her intent she was too close for them to attempt evasive maneuvers.

 _Perseus_ was at flank speed when her unbreakable bow pierced the enemy's hull, a deadly blow that instantly snapped the Cylon vessel's back. As shipboard systems began to fail, she redirected just enough power to her DRADIS to see the last civilian ship, a luxury liner named _Cloud Nine,_ make the jump to safety. _Perseus_ had accomplished her mission, and she indulged a brief moment of satisfaction before turning on her old enemy one last time.

Summoning up all the rage and hatred she'd felt in the war, she diverted what little power her reactors had left and began to spin up her long dormant FTL drive. She could _feel_ the Cylons trying to escape as the drive core approached critical mass, dozens of small ships pouring from their launch bays. She paused...just for a moment. Just long enough for those toasters to think they were going to make it...before she ended it.

With a savage roar, she tore a hole in the skin of the universe and personally dragged the crippled Cylons into hell.

They'd been four times the size of _Perseus,_ and from the moment she'd bared her teeth they never stood a chance.

-END-


End file.
